Sonnets, amatory, incidental, & descriptive :: :: University of Virginia Library

Oh Nightingale, that poet sure was sad
Who called thee Sorrow's bird! Unto my ear,
(Familiar to her mournful voice, as 'twere
A fretful sister's,) thy saddest song seems glad
As the Lark's matin when the trees are clad—
As the blythe Cuckoo when white May is near—
Or any sound that maketh Delight mad,
And drains a passionate heart of its fond tear.
Let the dull-eared deem thee a melancholy
Bird and sorrowful, and misconceive thy song,
Heard in Night's silence the calm woods among:
Heed thine own song, and never note their folly;
But sing to lovers in thy dark delight,
And make them sigh with a mirth too exquisite!